


Blackwatch Ugly Sweater Party

by threeblueribbons



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anxiety, Blackwatch Era, F/M, Fluff, Light Smut, Lil bit of Gency, Ugly Holiday Sweaters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:01:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21814093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threeblueribbons/pseuds/threeblueribbons
Summary: When you attended Blackwatch's Ugly Sweater Party for the holidays, you didn't expect your Commander's getup to be so... tight.
Relationships: Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Reader
Comments: 13
Kudos: 110





	Blackwatch Ugly Sweater Party

**Author's Note:**

  * For [momothespicy (momothesweet)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/momothesweet/gifts).



> This was done for the Overwatch Holiday Fic Exchange, hosted by @ClareGuilty. So... merry Christmas, Miss Momo! I really hope you enjoy!

“It ain’t good,” McCree said thoughtfully. “It ain’t bad. But it sure as hell ain’t ugly.”

You stomped your foot indignantly. “It’s absolutely ugly! For fuck’s sake, Jesse, it’s an anthropomorphic peach in a Santa hat.”

He stroked his chin contemplatively as he studied the sweater you were currently wearing. While a part of you was wondering if he was just taking the opportunity to ogle your chest, you had a hard time believing your fellow Blackwatch agent saw you as anything more than a sister.

“Dunno,” he concluded. “We’ll see what the others think.”

Blackwatch was a small team, so it made sense that they would have their own Christmas get-together. You weren’t really one for big social events anyway. When the Commander had sent out an email specifying that it would be a non-optional ugly sweater party, the first thing you did was dig your token article of clothing out of the storage bin and don it proudly. You’d met Jesse by his dorm and headed over together, complimenting him on a truly atrocious cable-knit number that had actual jingle bells and a string of Christmas lights powered by a small battery pack.

As the two of you strode down the hall to the rec room, you wondered what the rest of your Blackwatch family would wear. Even though this would be a relatively low-key social event, you felt a distant breaker of anxiety lap at you. “How much you wanna bet Moira skips out?” you asked to distract yourself.

McCree let out a “pfft” noise, a final vestige of smoke from the cigar he’d just snuffed escaping through his lips. “She’s been with Blackwatch - has to be, what, two months now? - and I feel like I don’t know a damn thing about her.”

The tall, Irish doctor sort of gave you the creeps as well, though you had to admit you were intrigued by her aura of mystery. You couldn’t imagine her participating in something frivolous like this. Still, a part of you longed to get to know her better, to see how she would shake up the Blackwatch dynamic.

“It’s about time I’m not the only support,” you griped as you shouldered the door open. “And-”

  
And there was supposed to be a second part to that sentiment, but all lucid thought fled your mind when your eyes fell on the Commander of Blackwatch.

Since you’d joined up with Overwatch, you had nursed a hopeless, albeit harmless, crush on Reyes. Who wouldn’t? The man was six delicious feet of muscle with a smile that made you want to frantically fan your face. He had a way about him that was one part hardass, one part tactician, and one part big-softie-beneath-his-lethal-exterior. Even if you’d only ever just be an agent to him, you were simply happy to be part of his Blackwatch family.

But, fuck. You didn’t expect to see him innocently sipping punch in a V-neck powder blue sweater three sizes too small and sinfully tight. His godly biceps were bulging against the yarn and a healthy section of his midriff was on display. (Also the sweater had sequin snowflakes.)

Reyes quickly downed the rest of his punch and flashed you one of his brilliant grins. “Hey, you two! Merry merry!” He hurried over and tucked you and Jesse into a bear hug. Your cheeks heated up madly as you felt your face pressed against his pectoral.

“Reyes. The hell is that thing?” you teased, hoping to distract him from your blush.

“This?” He chuckled at his undersized sweater. “Nabbed his gem from my abuela.” He picked up the pom-poms hanging on strings from the hood, jiggling them and you and Jesse. His eyebrows raised as he noticed the latter’s monstrosity. He opened his mouth to comment on it, when Jesse let out a squeak.

“Genji! Traitor!”

Your eyes finally left Reyes to fall on the ninja sulking in the corner. Sure enough, Genji was slouched against the wall with his arms folded over his decidedly sweaterless chest.

“This is ridiculous,” Jesse griped. “Her sweater ain’t ugly and he ain’t even wearin’ one!”

“Oh that’s an ugly sweater alright, she’s just making it look good,” Reyes commented off-handedly, and your stomach flipped. You thought your heart might burst from that little compliment. His grin turned sinister. “And as for Scrooge over there… I’ve got a plan.”

Reyes withdrew a holopad from behind the punch bowl and sauntered over to Genji, who watched his from beneath drawn brows. “What are you up to?” he murmured.

“I brought an extra sweater for you,” Reyes explained. “Just in case you change your mind after watching this.”

With a push of his finger, a two-foot hologram fizzed above the pad. As the projected image went from ethereal blue to full color, you recognized the subject as none other than Angela Ziegler. You had a special place in your heart for the kindly doctor and smiled to see she had pre-recorded a message.

“Hi Genji!” Mercy said, wiggling her fingers in a wave. “Gabriel told me he’s having an ugly sweater Christmas party, and for some reason he thinks I’m the only one who can convince you to participate?” Her voice rose at the end of the sentence, as though it was surprising to her that she had some sort of special sway over Genji.  _ Please _ , you thought. Genji’s love for the doctor who saved his life was the worst-kept secret on base. “The party sound like fun! You should play along, even if you feel a little silly. That’s part of the charm of the holidays - to step outside yourself a little bit and have a laugh.” She chuckled becomingly. “Anyway. I’ll be on this mission until the New Year so… Merry Christmas! Though I hope we’ll talk before then. Bye-bye.”

What remained of Genji’s face was about as red as you’d ever seen it. You and Jesse shared a glance like you’d just hit a climactic scene in a soap opera. Reyes still looked insufferably smug.

  
After a pregnant silence, Genji’s shoulders puffed out a bout of exhaust that sounded decidedly like a sigh. “Give me the sweater.”

Your commander laughed and bent over to retrieve the item out of a shopping bag. And due to the inability of Abuela Reyes’ top to cover the small of her grandson’s back, you caught an eyeful of -

“Oh fuck me sideways,” Jesse whispered. “Gabe’s got a tramp stamp.”

“Shut up,” you hissed. “Don’t bring it up or he’s going to make us do laps.” Even Genji’s red eyes appeared to be trained on the twin shotguns adorning the commander’s lower back.

“Here y’are,” Reyes called cheerfully, tossing the recent purchase over to Genji, who tugged it over his head without looking at it.

The party, small though it was, proceeded with raucous storytelling and good-natured jibes. Once Genji dropped his Byronic act, he was his usual convivial self. Jesse was always there to fill your drink and let you lean on his shoulder when you were at risk of falling off your chair from laughing too hard.

And Gabriel Reyes was still wearing that goddamned sweater.

Oh, it was so bad. So  _ delightfully _ bad. You’d always had a thing for his arms, those brown, muscular tree-trunks, but you’d never seen them in such an ill-fitting shirt. The sleeves were the tightest at the bulge of his bicep, and you knew both Genji and Jesse had caught your greedy eyes flicking between them and what you could see of his abs. Your thoughts meandered to undressing him, brushing your knuckles over his exposed stomach and following the light dusting of hair leading beneath his navy blue combat pants…

“Well,” Reyes said, glancing at the time on his holopad. “Guess it’s about time we wrap this up. Genji, that sweater is yours to keep.”

Genji rolled his eyes, but you had a feeling he was smiling beneath his face plate.

“C’mon,” McCree said, slinging an arm around the cyborg’s shoulders. “I’ll help ya burn it.”

You pitched in cleaning up the room with the others, and were headed for the door when Reyes called your name. You looked at him expectantly.

“Come with me to my office for a sec? I wanted to give you back that dossier I borrowed.”

“Oh, yes,” you said, suddenly feeling flustered. “Sure thing.”

You waved goodbye to the other boys as your Commander led you out of the rec room. As you were leaving, though, you heard McCree - his voice lowered enough that he probably thought you couldn’t hear - murmur, “Genji, Genji. Did you  _ see  _ her tits in that sweater?”

An unconscious smile danced across your lips. Well, damn. Maybe you weren’t just a sister to him after all.

But your sights were currently set on the man striding down the hall at your side, moving with such confidence that you’d think he were dressed in full military regalia and not an ugly sweater. You suppressed a dreamy sigh and folded your arms over your festive peach, hoping you wouldn’t run into anybody.

When you reached his office, Reyes unlocked the door and started shuffling around piles on his desk. “Ahhh, where’d I leave it,” he hummed to himself while you admired his tattoo. After a moment, he let out a huff and - to your mutual horror and glory - yanked the sweater over his head.

“What - Gabe - Commander?!” you sputtered, throwing your hands in front of your eyes as though he’d just pulled off tear-away stripper pants.

Reyes gave a hearty laugh. “I never took you for that much of a prude, agent. Never seen a man without a shirt before?”

“But you - but  _ why _ ?” Unfortunately that came out as more of a whine than you intended.

“Party’s over. That thing is itchy as fuck.” He gave a theateric gasp. “Uh-oh. Did I offend your sensibilities by using a swear word?”

You let out an indignant sigh and dropped your hands to your sides, hoping to God he wouldn’t notice how hard you were blushing. 

The sight of the Commander shirtless was probably one the sexiest sights anyone had ever witnessed. Feeling the need to fill the brief silence with babble, and perhaps defend against the “prude” accusation, you spluttered, “I’m not offended by you taking off your shirt. I just would have liked some warning so I could -”

“So you could…” he continued with a devilish smile. 

Oh fuck, Reyes - no  _ Gabriel,  _ you weren’t on the clock right now - knew exactly what this was doing to you. He was teasing you. Planting your hands on your hips, you smiled right back with an uncharacteristic surge of confidence and rejoined, “So I could take a picture.”

For a moment, you thought you saw surprise flash across his face at the realization that you were playing along. “That so?” he egged on. “What for, exactly?”

You pretended to consider. “I might find a use for it later tonight.”

Shit. That went a little too far. Had you seriously just insinuated to your boss that you would touch yourself to a photo of him if you had the chance? If your face was red before, it was purple now. Something between a laugh and a gagging sound came out of your mouth as you quickly averted your eyes. “I didn’t mean that. It was a joke,” you rushed. Your anxiety had its heel on your throat and you thought you might feel tears pushing at the back of your eyes.

To your relief, he just laughed. “I like you when you’ve got a couple of drinks in you."

Relieved, you laughed back. Just like that, the tension evaporated. “I know. I’m usually more tightly-wound than your grandma’s sweater.” Gabriel chuckled along with you.

And somehow, the dossier was completely forgotten. You took a seat on the couch along the wall while he plopped into his big rolly chair, and the two of you just carried on chitchatting as though the party were still in progress. Eventually he moved to sit next to you on the couch because he said he felt like he was lecturing you when he was behind the desk. A part of you was preoccupied with when he was going to remember why you were in his office and wrap up the night, but as the minutes stretched on, you relaxed and began to lose yourself in the conversation.

“Hey hey,” Gabriel snapped playfully at one point. “My eyes are up here.”

You had, indeed, been staring at his bare chest. Considering how well the conversation had been going, you rolled your eyes and laughed without jumping to apologize. 

“What the matter?” he asked, his tone still light. “Do I have something on my  _ washboard abs _ ?” He dragged a hand from his sternum down to his stomach in an over-the-top sexy show. You burst out laughing, leaning into the arm of the couch to try to muffle the sound. He laughed along with you, and somehow your thighs were touching now, and you didn’t know when that happened but all you could think about was what a gift this man was, to be both funny and gorgeous and somehow choosing to spend his limited free time with you.

“Isn’t it time you put a shirt on?” you teased. “You must have a change of clothes around here somewhere.”

“Hmmm,” he said thoughtfully. “I suppose I could. But is that what you really want?”

A hot blush seared your cheeks. “Stop it,” you grumbled through a smile.

“That’s not a no,” he pointed out, somehow even closer to you. You were consciously averting your eyes now, afraid if you caught a glimpse of that brilliant smile you’d just dribble into a lovesick puddle at his feet.

“Hey.”

Suddenly, his voice had turned serious. When you did look up at him, the smile was gone, replaced by a look of tender curiosity. “I’m not actually making you uncomfortable, am I?”

“No! God, no,” you rushed, tucking your hair behind your ear. “I just -” You hesitated a moment, thinking of the best way to explain all these butterflies in your stomach. “I’m drunk enough to enjoy the sight of you shirtless, but not so drunk that I’m brave enough to do anything about it,” you finally admitted.

Gabriel’s eyebrows rose. Very gently, like he was reaching out to pet a frightened animal, he reached into your lap and took your hand. Your heart was slamming itself against your ribs. “Lucky for you,” he said softly, “I’m feeling brave enough for the both of us.”

He ducked his head and kissed you, still holding your hand, with all the patience and sweetness of a man who had no idea how you were going to react. But since he’d made the first move - since you were no longer able to ensconce yourself in denial - you shut your eyes and melted into the kiss with no more hesitation. He matched your growing intensity as you placed a resolute hand on each of his bare shoulders. When his fingers began to card through your hair, you emitted a quiet moan and pressed yourself against him.

You had been dreaming of this day since you joined Blackwatch. Happiness splashed over you in waves as the kiss you were sharing with Gabriel deepened, becoming something truly passionate and special. Not just a sloppy, tipsy kiss because you both wanted to get laid tonight; a kiss that bespoke a hundred stolen glances and suppressed feelings and private fantasies. Your commander may sometimes be impulsive on the battlefield, but by and large you knew him to be a planner, an intelligent man who thought about his actions and kept tabs on all the ramifications that could come of them. In others words…

There was no way Gabriel Reyes hadn’t thought about kissing you before.

At some point his hands drifted to your hips, and after a little while your neck was starting to cramp from the angle. Mustering your courage, you swung a leg over his and planted yourself in his lap.

Gabriel’s pupils were blown, his gaze distant and dazed as he registered what had just happened. “This okay?” you whispered nervously.

“Mhmm,” he answered, the second syllable morphing into a groan as he put his lips back on yours. You were thrilled to feel the hardness between his legs, and ground down into it before you could talk yourself out of it. The sound Gabriel made was sinful, and fuck if you wouldn’t remember it until the day you died. One arm was wrapped against the small of your back while the other one rested tentatively at the hem of your sweater. “Can I?” he breathed between kisses.

Oh, right. Sex usually involved people getting naked, didn’t it? You didn’t want to ruin this glorious moment by taking off your shirt and giving him undeniable evidence that you didn’t have the perfect, trim build of Angela or Moira. “I, uh, it might be better if I kept it on,” you murmured.

“Better?”

“For you, I mean,” you rushed, and tried to go back to kissing him. Gabriel stopped you with a firm hand on your shoulder.

“If this is as far as you want to go, I get it. But what do you mean, ‘for me?’”

You sighed. Shit. This was not a conversation you wanted to have. “I just - Your body looks so,  _ so  _ incredible without a shirt. I don’t want you to be disappointed when you see mine.”

To your surprise, Gabriel threw back his head and laughed. He gently slid you off his lap and walked over to retrieve his long-since abandoned sweater.

Oh, no. Was this really over then?

Tears once again pushed at your eyes as you watched him wrestle the top back over his head. The bulge in his pants was still salient.

“C’mon,” he said, holding out a hand to you.

“What… where are we…?”

“We are going to my quarters so I can lay you out on the bed and worship every inch of you properly. And when you wake up next to me tomorrow, I’m going to do it all over again.”

Fuck. You were already wet from the heavy petting, but you may have actually whimpered in response to that. “Gabriel,” you uttered, standing on shaky legs and taking his outstretched hand. “That may be the sexiest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

In lieu of an answer, he pulled you into him and gave you a lingering kiss. When you broke apart, he took your hand again and made for the door. Sticking his head out and looking both ways, he whispered, “All clear,” and burst into a run with you in tow for the elevator. You were both giggling like teenagers.

Somewhere further down the base, a group of agents was drunkenly singing holiday carols. Jesse and Genji were either burning a sweater or talking about your tits. And as for you and Gabriel?

You would be making love in his bedroom until the sun came up, enjoying the best goddamn Christmas gift of your life.

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
